


The Ring

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [13]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, just generally making the world better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-09 12:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12276423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: Now that Darcy is on board with eliminating the Sokovia Accords, Tony feels like he has room to breathe. With Canada hosting the initial resolution meetings and Captain Holier-Than-Thou agreeing to attend, he has a real shot at fixing things. And then Bucky Barnes shows up. And Ross. And the President-elect. It's a good thing Tony is a genius. And a better thing that he hired Darcy Lewis.  *Takes place 11/21/16 - 11/22/16





	1. Maple League Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Let's celebrate the cast coming off.
> 
> Number of hands: Two. Suck it HYDRA.

**November 21, 2016**

 

“You’ve got your notes?” Darcy asked, for perhaps the third time since Tony had landed in Ottawa. She handed a file over to Pauline. _Paulina. Paula?_ The head of his legal department, and her...other person. Those two would actually review the details of the agreement that would mark the beginning of the end of the Sokovia Accords. Tony would read it too, of course. He hated being handed things and loved making people think that he didn’t pay any attention, but there was no way he was signing another government document without making sure it did exactly what he needed it too.

“Like a steel trap, Lewis.” Tony tapped his temple just over the tinted glasses he was wearing. They were not reading glasses, _Rhodey._ _Let it go_ , Tony thought. _Let’s talk about something else. Anything else but having to apologize to Mr. Liberty_ _._ “Stop being a worry wort. It’s harshing my vibe here.”

“Nobody says that anymore, Tony. Get with the times.” Darcy opened her tablet, flicking through the agenda that had been finalized days ago. She knew that Tony knew what to do; they had gone over it a million times. She still looked a little bit like she wanted to vomit. Tony could understand. He kind of wanted to vomit. Or maybe drink heavily. Yes. That was it. Drink heavily and then vomit. Or run away. Run away to drink heavily and then vomit. Elsewhere. He was sure there was some pressing business he needed to take care of. Somewhere...not in Canada. Somewhere far, far away from Steve Rogers and all of his own massive, massive mistakes. Super-massive black hole sized mistakes. Muse would have understood.

Darcy being nervous was ridiculous. This was what she had been studying for, what she had spent years researching. _At a liberal arts school_ , he reminded himself indignantly. Darcy was better at understanding individual personalities and group dynamics than anyone he had ever met – even better than Pepper. Not that he would ever say so. He loved Pepper. And Darcy would be insufferable if she received too much praise. She had that look about her. Reminded him of him.

And when she was nervous it made him nervous. Tony didn’t like being nervous. It was unnatural. There were exactly three things that were allowed to put fear into him. Pepper (and the potential that she could leave him and then he’d be alone again but it would be so much worse than before because he knew now what it was like to have someone and to love them and to have them love him back and the very thought was crushing and horrible so he pushed it far down and deflected), Space (just in general, it was a dark, cold place that should stay _out there_ while he stayed firmly inside the atmosphere where there was air and heat and light and no maniacal aliens with a thirst for death and power and the end of mankind which included him and more importantly Pepper and he couldn’t-), and mayonnaise. (Why did it exist? Why were so many people enamored of it? How did eggs get in there in the first place? Disgusting.)

“Settle your wig, Lewis. It’s just the future of the world riding on how well you have done your job. And you don’t even have to sit in the actual meeting. Lucky duck.”

“No pressure. Thanks, Tony.” Darcy said dryly.

“You’re welcome. Glad I could help. Now is there espresso? I specifically told you I needed an espresso.”

“No espresso. There is herbal tea and Pepper sent me with four of your gross green shake things.” She pulled one out of her Mary Poppins bag and handed it over. It made Tony think about folding space and the implications of manipulating molecular density or better yet pocket dimensions and how Foster’s theories might apply to creating a hole not unlike the Acme cartoons. It would be great for preventing his car keys from ruining the line of his suit. Also, Manhattan rental rates. Also, energy storage utilizing radiation that might otherwise be life-threatening. “Let’s go over the high points for your meeting with the Captain, one more time.”

 _Fuck, no._ Anything but that. If Tony had to hear her coaching him, even one more time: _I was wrong, Steve. I take responsibility._ He was going to lose it. His mind or his breakfast, could go either way. He was going to say it. He would say it, because it was the truth and it needed to be said and goddammit if he wasn’t going to get this shit the fuck back on track before anything worse happened and Ross blew up the whole goddamn world because that asswipe dickhole couldn’t-

"Let's get this show on the road," Tony clapped his hands together, " I have things to do, Lewis. People to ignore, machines to build, money to burn. You aren’t getting paid to waste my time, so where is everyone?" He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels looking if he hadn't a care. Darcy knew better. He knew she knew better. She could see through his bluster and suave charm and it was both irritating and a relief.An irritating relief. A relieving irritation. She hadn't been working with Tony long, but she knew when he was deflecting.

Trudeau stepped in shortly after that making friendly overtures, assuring Tony that everything was well in hand, complimenting Lewis on her crackerjack negotiation skills. He might have actually used the word crackerjack. Tony wasn’t really paying attention. He was too distracted by what appeared to be a politician who genuinely seemed to care about things. And stuff. It was unsettling. As soon as the man left again Tony went back to his smoothie, sucking it dry and pointing out to Darcy how Paloma. _Portia? Paige?_ Looked like she smelled blood in the water. Canada was too far north. They weren’t adequately prepared for a shark attack.

***

 

Steve Rogers, Captain America, entered the room and Darcy could feel Tony tense up beside her. He abruptly turned his back, facing the coffee bar and forcing nonchalance into a diatribe about matcha tea and caffeine-free products. She nodded to the legal team and they quietly slipped out another door. This reunion was going to be difficult enough without an audience. Captain Rogers looked determined, and maybe just a tiny bit nervous. He rubbed his palm against the top of his thigh, as if to smooth the already perfectly smooth slacks.

The Black Widow was right behind him in what Darcy thought of as her Natalie uniform: a tailored dark raspberry dress with a skinny belt and heels high enough to break an ankle. She was even carrying a slim briefcase. Darcy had the dangerous impulse to find out what was inside. _Tablet? Top Secret files? Handgun? Tieks?_ It could be anything. She hadn’t been positive Natasha would show up. The spy seemed to think that playing for both teams might come around to bite her at the pending meeting. Darcy was more concerned that there be someone in the room physically capable of stopping Tony and the Captain from beating the tar out of each other. She breathed a little sigh of relief knowing that Natasha Romanoff could enforce a time out if necessary.

Past Natasha’s shoulder, loitering in the hallway, was a face Darcy would have recognized anywhere. Aside from his brief but scorching fifteen minutes of infamy after the assassination of King T’Chaka, James Buchanan Barnes featured heavily in Tony’s Avengers files. Darcy hadn’t read through most of his history; she found after a few pages she usually had to go watch Hanna Barbera cartoons or eat raw cookie dough to feel human again. What she had read made her cognizant of one fact that would put the entire negotiations in jeopardy.

Tony Stark hated James Barnes.

 _Conflict resolution_ , she thought, feeling her armpits starting to get damp and her stomach twisting with nerves. _You can do this. No problem. Just a little Lewis misdirection and some patented Sheryl Fate charm and_ _BAM!_ _crisis averted._

_Please, Lord, if I die, let Jane enjoy my porn collection. Amen._


	2. Sleight of Mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Barnes and Darcy together. Two sides of the same hot, smart mouthed coin. I'll get back to Tony and Steve and #sorrynotsorrybutreallysosorry soon, but this had to be done.

**November 21, 2016**

 

 

Barnes was waiting in the hallway for Natalia to give him the signal – stay or go – when the spy suddenly stepped to the side for a dark haired woman. Natalia shut the door with a click, _hell of a signal_ , and he had only a brief moment to identify Darcy Lewis before she was in his personal space. Without any warning, the Lewis woman thrust her arm under his and tucked her hand around his elbow. His metal one. He froze for one second. _Assessment. Secondary association. Threat level -_

“Thank god I have you, handsome. I’ve had it about up to here with Tony and the legal eagles,” she gestured with her free hand at a spot about a foot above her head. Her huge leather handbag thumped against her body in protest at the motion. “I promised my dad I wouldn’t wander around foreign government buildings on my own – on account of this one little misunderstanding during Spring Break my freshman year, so you can be my escort. Have you ever considered that, by the way? I assume you know the euphemism. If not, I’d like to tell you about a fantastic business proposition I have for you. As the management, I would of course take the first sixty percent of profits. Standard fee, really. For overhead.” She snickered to herself. “Ha. Over _head_. And your part will be easy. You just lay around, looking like your own beautiful self, and the money comes rolling in.”

Barnes found himself walking beside her, letting her direct them, and his own train of thought completely derailed. He was still surveilling the area, he wasn’t completely brain dead, but he had never had anyone _out talk_ the Soldier. Not the Winter Soldier, because he wasn’t in there anymore, would never be coming back. Barnes really would eat a bullet first. But there was a part of him that had been the cold, calculating sniper, wet works operative, assassin or whatever it was called long before Zola and the Chair. The Army had seen it during basic training, and it was why he was assigned to the Commandos. That part of him was bigger and darker and colder now, but it was still him. It had taken nearly a year of agonizing therapy to separate the two. And all of two seconds for Lewis and her mouth to bulldoze him out of that mindset.

“If that’s not your thing – and I completely understand. My body is my temple, after all. Then we could start with something more low key. Tasteful pictures? How do you feel about using your sex appeal to start a porn empire?”

“I...don’t.” Lewis was distracting, and despite the low probability of danger, Barnes wasn’t certain he liked it. He did feel a wave of relief at not having to confront Tony Stark. Steve would be fine. Intellectually he knew that. And with Natalia in the room there was no threat that couldn’t be handled. Still, Barnes felt himself slipping back into hyper vigilance and looking-

“Hm. Well.” She frowned for a brief moment. “I guess I’ll continue with my 401k then. If you don’t have one yet, I’ll help you look into it. Social Security was never intended to be a pension plan people!” The last she said in a stage whisper while glaring at random strangers in the lobby. Barnes wasn’t sure if Canadians had Social Security – or whatever the equivalent would be. “Ah, there it is!” With an abrupt yank she attempted to spin him to the left. Barnes decided to see how serious she was. He held his ground. She snapped back to him like a rubber band, crashing into his side.

“Oof.” She sucked in several deep breaths and stilled before looking up at him. He realized it was the first time she had met his gaze since she took his arm. “If you aren’t comfortable, you need to tell me. Right now. I won’ttake you back into that room,” she warned gently. “We are already sitting on a powder keg and between Rogers and Tony they have enough matches to make the Hindenburg look like a birthday candle. The last thing this situation needs is more tension. But if anything is happening that doesn’t sit right with you - including me, I will find you a nice, quiet spot where you can wait until the meetings are over. Just say the word.”

He wasn’t going to go off the deep end or go catatonic just because he was sans keeper, but Barnes wondered what she thought she would do to prevent him if he did decide to go back. He wondered how one civilian could go from ridiculous to serious, logical, and so very insightful in the blink of an eye. Her voice was low and sincere, her eyes blue-green and hard with determination. Darcy Lewis was extremely pretty. Luscious dark curls trying to escape a low bun. Smooth, creamy pale skin. Lips painted velvety plum and so full they would make any man’s mind dip into the gutter. And that was before they took her body into account. Silky blue blouse that was demure in cut but floated over generous assets. Tight black skirt with a small, high waist and respectable hemline. Sensible shoes. Flat, black, and with a strap across the top so that she could run in them if she needed to.

Commanding. Gorgeous. Fucking fearless. She was exactly what Stevie needed. _Punk won’t know what hit him._ It had been ages since he had played the game, but there was no better reason to dust off his old skills than to get a girl for Steve. And hopefully shame and embarrass him in the process.

“How do you young people say it?” His throat felt a little raspy. It had been a long, silent ride from the airport. “My safe word is grapefruit.”

She blinked. A slow flutter of dark lashes made thick and ridiculously long with makeup. Then that sinful mouth curled up in a smirk that promised very, very bad things.

“Fan. Tastic.” She gave a warning tug and he allowed her to pull him away and into a Starbucks. Damn things were everywhere, apparently even in Canada. They had to wait in line for a few minutes and she didn’t speak until it was nearly their turn to order. “Mine’s Elmo, for future reference. In case anyone wants to know.”

Barnes let out a snort before he controlled his shocked amusement. Lewis kept right on talking.

“First appearances would brand you as a black coffee kind of guy, but I hate to be presumptuous.”

“ _More_ presumptuous,” he managed to break in quietly.

“Exactly.” She nodded decisively as if he had agreed with her. “Hi!” Her bright smile for the barista was echoed and the younger woman behind the counter flicked her eyes over him appreciatively. _Maybe if I were ten, or eighty, years younger and not a mindless assassin._ It didn’t matter, flirting with Lewis was the closest he’d come to even thinking about action since he woke up from HYDRA. It felt nice. Safe – because Steve was already interested and Natalia had given them her stamp of approval. Not that Barnes needed any more reckless punks to look after. “We’ll take a coffee - black, a London Fog, a Peppermint White Mocha Hot Chocolate, and a chamomile tea – soy milk please. All mediums.”

“What are the names?”

“Jim. For all of those. And I’ll have a large Pumpkin Spice Latte. Extra whip with caramel. For Darcy. And a couple of croissants, please. Warmed.” She paid, the total was exorbitant. Steve had mentioned it took a couple of years for him to get used to inflation, but Barnes did the mental math. Even in 1940 dollars, her drink would have cost ten times what a cup of coffee was worth.

“I know what you’re thinking. Pumpkin Spice? What am I? The devil incarnate? A sonority sister? An overprotective multi-tasking helicopter mom? Eugh, right? It’s the Achilles heel to my awesomeness. I’ve tried to quit it, but I just can’t. This shit is more addictive than KFC – and that has eleven secret spices. _Eleven_.” She turned back to the barista who was chuckling as she made the drinks. Lewis made big gestures as she talked, nearly hitting him in the chest. “What do you people put in that? Crack-cocaine? Powdered unicorn heart? It’s nuts.” There was laughter from a few other people waiting for their drinks and Lewis grinned while she grabbed her receipt and the baked goods.

Without asking his preference, she lead him to a table at the far end, with easy access to the storeroom - and presumably a back entrance, and sight lines to the front door. She sat first, dumping her bag next to her and leaving him the seat that faced the front. Barnes appreciated a partner that understood strategic dining.

“So, how was your trip?” She folded her hands under her chin and waited expectantly.

Barnes gave it a few beats. “Oh, is it my turn to talk now?”

Lewis batted her eyelashes. “Only if you want to. And I’ll probably interrupt. It’s my way. You’ll get used to it. I’m charming.” She stopped again.

“What?”

“Your trip. Come on. Gimme something to work with here. Turbulence? Rousing game of Eye Spy? Gosh darn that TSA? Nothing?”

“It was fine.”

“Wow.” She grinned. “I can tell we are going to be great friends. Others might be off put by your monosyllabic ways, but not me. Finally, someone who will listen to my every amazing word without constantly trying to jab in with how their grandma died or they’re allergic to salt and have to quit their job as a deep sea fisherman, or how they’re saving the universe again. Bor-ing.” The barista arrived with their order in two little cardboard carriers. Barnes hadn’t spent a lot of time out and about, but he was pretty sure she was just supposed to call out their names. It was doubtful that HYDRA or the less savory legitimate agencies had a plant working at a Starbucks inside a Canadian government building on the slim possibility he might drop in, but there was no point in taking chances. He nodded politely to let her know they didn’t need anything else and then watched as her smile faded and she left.

“Dude. Is it possible you have worse game than your childhood buddy?”

“What?”

She was staring at him, those full lips twisted as if to hold in a smile. “She wrote her number on your cup.” He turned the black coffee around and saw the phone number, under the name Jim. Barnes frowned. Nobody had ever called him Jim. It was a stupid name. She spun the other drinks in the holder. “Dude. It’s on every cup. Holy shit you are bad at this.”

“She’s twelve.” He pointed out. He might have also been a little off his game, but it had been seventy-five years. He thought he deserved some slack.

“She’s at least twenty-one, only a few years younger than me, grandpa. You look – maybe thirty. Thirty-five when you scowl like that,” she amended.

Barnes took a sip of the coffee. It was hot as hell and burned his tongue, but he’d be damned before he said anything about it. “Thirty-two,” he mumbled.

“Come again?”

“Not unless you buy me dinner,” he said without thinking. Her mouth fell open and he barely held it together. _What is it with this woman?_ He was feeling more and more like Bucky Barnes rather than the Soldier. It was nice. “We did the math. Steve and Sam and I. I’m thirty-two. Steve was twenty-five when he went into the ice. He’s thirty now, give or take a few days. Added up the time I remember being out and what’s in the file, and I’m thirty-two.”

“Give or take a few days?” He nodded at her question. “Wait. Wasn’t he born before you?”

Barnes snorted. It was still strange to think that so many people he had never met, whose grandparents hadn’t been alive during the war, knew details about his life. “Yeah. My birthday’s in August. Punk held it over me all the time when we were kids – and now I’m older ‘n him.” He allowed himself a small smile while he tried the hot chocolate. It had almost turned in to a tussle when Sam showed the figures to Steve. Nothing like bringing up a childish rivalry to start a good time.

She rolled her eyes and blew on her drink. “Pft. Like it matters. You were both hot as hell in 1940, you’re hot now, and you’ll still be hot in twenty years. It’s like an amped up Harrison Ford thing you two have going on.”

He ignored the Harrison Ford comment, Barton had shown him _Working Girl_ and _Cowboys and Aliens_ , the implication was clear – and flattering. “Steve didn’t get the...” Barnes was conscious of opportunities for eavesdropping in the small cafe. It wasn’t very crowded, most people got their order and then went back to work, but he still choose his words carefully. “...treatment until forty-two.”

“Yeah, I know. And he was hot before.” Before Barnes had a moment to process that, she leaned in closer. “Okay – I’ll admit it. This was a bribe.” She glanced around like it was a secret, but continued to speak at a normal volume. Darcy Lewis would make a terrible spy. “The history books all say he was a perfect gentlemen and couldn’t get a date _before_ , and Tony claims the Captain is right next door to being able to legitimately wear white at his wedding, but between you and me – level with me here – he had to beat them away, am I right?” Barnes sipped at his cocoa and watched her through narrow eyes, trying to decide what part of her conversation to tackle. It was all fairly ludicrous. “That face!” She sighed dramatically and slid down in her chair. “He’s just so pretty! And the old pictures? Oh my god, I just want to carry him home and ravish him. You know?”

“No.” Barnes had to use all of his training to keep from grinning. She was serious. Aside from the fact that he doubted Lewis had a deceptive bone in her body, in the quiet corner of the cafe he could hear her heart beat evenly and see the slight dilation of her pupils. She honestly thought Steve had been good-looking before the serum. He was reminded of a cartoon Clint liked to watch where the evil old man would rub his hands together sinisterly. _Ex_ _xxx-_ _cellent._

“Ugh. Whatever.” She glanced at her watch, a plain black leather band that seemed out of place. Most young people now seemed to just use their phones for clocks. “Okay. The Captain and Tony should be done with their little _tete a tete_ now. That, or Natasha has dropped them both like a bad habit and is enjoying her own coffee while they sleep it off. Let’s head back up so I can compare notes with legal one more time before the real meetings begin. Do you want to like, scout the perimeter or something?”

Barnes hadn’t even thought about the meetings, or Steve, or Tony Stark since they got to the cafe. He narrowed his eyes at Lewis. She was rifling through her bag, but her shoulders were subtly tensed and she bit the inside of her lip when she thought he wasn’t looking. Whatever she appeared to be with her heart-throb figure and mile-a-minute mouth, she was something _more_. Something much, much better. It was rare and beautiful to know what the world was like and still be so open. It had been a long time since he had just enjoyed a conversation, and Barnes figured he owned her something for turning a high-stress, high-stakes morning into a normal interaction for him. He knew just how to repay her.

“Sure thing, doll. I just need to check in with the others first. And, how would you like to make little Stevie-boy blush?”

Her own cheeks turned pink, but her smile was wide enough he guessed it was from excitement. “Well, hopefully Stevie-boy isn’t _too_ little. And what did you have in mind?”


	3. #sorrynotsorrybutreallysosorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha? Sweet chessboard pie. That woman deserves a vacation. Or a gold medal. Or a bottle of Stoli. At the very least a girls' night where she can terrify a Czech pedophile. Oh, wait...we did that in Li v Lee. Well, good job Natasha. Bonus points to you.
> 
> And I know this series is supposed to be about Darcy/Steve But not-so-secretly? Tony is my favorite.

**November 21, 2016**

 

Natasha locked eyes with Darcy Lewis and willed her to understand the situation.

She had barely arrived at the Prime Minister’s Office in time to keep Steve from parading Barnes in front of Tony. Natasha had been debating the merits of her own attendance, knowing that on his bad days Tony considered her to be just a step above a double agent, but Darcy’s pleas had swayed her. Clint often said it was better to be lucky than good, and this was one instance in which she agreed.

Steve was a good man; ‘the best of us’ Tony often mocked. He was willing to take responsibility where he had none and never shied away from acknowledging injustice. He was the unwavering moral compass that Natasha had never before imagined existed and wouldn’t admit she was a little frightened of. He also did not understand the meaning of incremental change. Or subtlety. Or easing into something. Steve was all or nothing. Black or white. Full frontal assault. Some trainers in the Red Room had called Yasha _the Fist_ – but that was only because Steve Rogers had been on ice at the time. In comparison to Captain America, the Winter Solider was a precision scalpel. Steve was all squared shoulders and frank honesty. _A well-intentioned bull in an emotional china shop._ Based on his ability to keep physically delicate and wisdom-stunted Steve Rogers alive long enough to join Project Rebirth, Natasha privately thought James Barnes must have had nearly preternatural skills even before he became the Winter Soldier.

The first face-to-face between Steve and Tony since Siberia was not the time for frank honesty. Certainly not as it pertained to James Barnes.

Where Steve was direct and completely lacking in guile, Tony was diversion and misrepresentation. In another life, with far less ego, Tony Stark would have made an excellent spy. As it was he approached resolving interpersonal problems like a Vegas magician: _nothing to see over here – but look under your seats! Rabbits for everyone!_

That Darcy Lewis had managed to get Tony to Ottawa, had wrangled him into discussions to end the Accords, had made him _personally_ call Steve – and Natasha still was not entirely certain how that had been accomplished, blackmail? Physical violence? Chemical assistance? Sexual inducement? - was a testament to the young woman’s skills, certainly. It was also lucky. Natasha needed a bit more of that luck. She needed Darcy to look into her eyes, see Barnes standing just over her shoulder, assess the situation and come to the correct conclusion: Tony could not handle Barnes right now. Then she needed an untrained civilian with all the physical strength of an al dente noodle to get the only man Natasha had ever been afraid of far away from Tony. Whether Yasha wanted to go or not.

Steve was shifting awkwardly next to Natasha. She could practically hear his mind grinding away on the speech he no doubt had prepared. He was nervous as well, the swipe of his palm against his thigh gave him away. She wondered if it was for the confrontation with Tony or the presence of Darcy. Or both. Natasha was aware that although most men seemed incapable of dealing with more than one thing at a time, it did not mean they could not comprehend the layers of a situation. Not the way she could, of course. Neither Tony nor Steve had ever had bones broken for missing subtext in a conversation or needles pressed under their skin for not noticing an inconsequential detail. That particular teaching method had left a lasting impression.

Natasha disliked going into operations with so little pre-planning and so few resources. If the worst happened, she knew she could take out either Steve _and_ Tony, _or_ slow down Barnes, but it would not be possible to contain all three men. Not before they could do serious damage to each other and irreparable damage to the fragile negotiations. She hadn’t even had time to properly accessorize for the meetings. She had only two ceramic knives on her and the briefcase was merely a prop stolen from an unsuspecting businesswoman in the parking lot. It had heft to it, despite it’s slim design. _Perhaps it would make a good distraction, if thrown_. Perhaps the woman it belonged to was a safety-conscious person. Pepper-spray would shave twelve seconds off the time necessary to disable Tony.

Darcy had exchanged her glasses for contacts, so the widening of her eyes when she caught sight of Barnes was obvious. _Ballon._ Tony’s back was turned while he delayed the inevitable, so when Darcy rushed out and Natasha closed the door behind her it left no opportunity for the grieving, angry, hurt billionaire to see the person that had killed his parents.

Even through the solid wood door Natasha could make out Darcy, talking as if her lips would glue shut if they were together for longer than a moment. Her voice faded along with the sharp click of her ballet flats and the barely heard light step of Barnes’ shoes.

Tony turned, and Natasha prepared for the next scene in this little ballet.

“Tony. Thank you for calling me. I-” Steve was cut off before he even finished the introductory part of his speech. Natasha moved to the refreshment table. It placed her near enough to Tony that she could easily dislocate his elbow and drive a sharp kick to his weak knee – cartilage there had been damaged during the fight with Ultron – and send him to the floor. And yet she was not in a direct line between him and Steve, so any initial charge would miss her.

Tony, as ever, threw the conversation off course with insults. “Natalie, did you come to work, or am I dying again?”

Natasha flicked one eyebrow up and sipped a chai tea. The childish dig rolled off her like it meant nothing, and it didn’t. Natasha was very aware of Tony’s coping mechanisms. She had written the initial report for SHIELD, after all. As usual, Tony continued as if no one else was necessary for conversation. TO him, they really, really weren’t.

“No, can’t be dying. Just had a checkup – full works. Have you done that yet, Cap? The works? At your age it is imperative. Prostate health is no laughing matter. Although the exam can be a bit abrasive. Unless you’re into that sort of thing, which, who isn’t, am I right? But I’m perfectly healthy. So healthy. New doc I hired says I have fewer swimmers than the Chernobyl cooling ponds and the cardiac damage of an Aztec sacrificial victim, but all the good cholesterol, so that’s amazing. And no long term issues from having my suit treated like a vexing can of sardines or getting my chest crushed by vibranium disk. How about you? Things been good? Feeling good? You look good. Very crisp and classically patriotic. Like a new Benjamin.”

Steve took three steps into the center of the room and began again, his mouth twisting with guilt and stubbornness. “Tony, I-”

“New suit? Should be new. I told Lewis you’d need new. Natalie has access to an SI card – for her _employment_ – you understand. What is that? Brioni? No, Tom Ford. I recognize the cut now. I have an O’Connor herringbone in teal – but it looks better on you. Good length. I’m more of a Buckley cut, myself.” He was straightening his tie as he spoke, as if the custom silk wasn’t already lying perfectly centered. This was both a nervous tick of Tony’s, and a calculated affectation. He was aware he tended to fiddle with things when he was avoiding a topic, so he used the mannerism to show others how disinterested he was while reinforcing his wealth and status. Natasha had seen it work countless times on businessmen, celebrities, and reporters. Even a few politicians. Steve Rogers was none of those things and not easily swayed from his course.

“I know it isn’t enough or close to what you deserve, but I need to-”

“Deserve?” Tony’s facade cracked and Natasha pressed her weight evenly between the balls of her feet. _En avonte_. Her cup was nearly empty, and she adjusted her grip to throw it if necessary. “What do I deserve, Steve? I didn’t deserve to be orphaned. I was a fuck-up, sure, but I don’t think I deserved to be murdered – certainly not by Obie. I didn’t deserve to be manipulated and betrayed by SHIELD. I didn’t _deserve_ to have my teammate – my frie- you, lie to me.” He never raised his voice, but he was breathing hard and the veins in his neck stood out sharply. Tony had lost weight after what happened in Siberia, and he still hadn’t gained it back. It gave him an air of vulnerability that mirrored what Natasha suspected he was feeling.

Natasha subtlety shifted her weight again, not to disable an opponent but to catch Tony if he fainted. He had hidden his panic attacks well up until the last few months, but she was familiar with how often they could result in loss of consciousness due to lack of oxygen.

“Now Mandarin? That one was on me. Definitely I deserved that. Pepper, not so much, but me? Yeah. So, scone?” He blindly reached for a tray of pastries off the table and offered it to Steve.

“Tony, I-” Steve took another step forward, the lines bracketing his mouth deep with the remorse he felt. The corners of his eyes were tight with a painful determination to see things through.

“Fucking _shut up_ , Steve!” That stopped the Captain dead in his tracks, and Natasha eased closer to Tony, just in case she need to take him out before he could summon a suit. His breath was harsh and his skin gray at the edge of his collar. It was a sharp contrast to the red flush along Steve’s jaw. _Adagio._

Tony continued, his voice so quiet and dull that neither she nor Steve would have been able to hear him if not for the serum. “I shouldn’t have...I shouldn’t have signed. I should have listened to you. The Accords...they’re wrong, so godawfully wrong and just, just a nightmare. And Ross, that was...I should have known better. I did know better but I didn’t want to...he’s such a fucking dick. We needed to talk about it, but I wouldn’t listen. And now...I need to listen now. I _am_ listening now. But you, you were wrong too. I can’t, you should have, this isn’t...fucking Barnes! They were my parents, Steve. And Howard was an asshole and Maria was – but they were mine, and I deserved to know. I deserved to make that choice, that call, myself. Not you. I get to hate him. I get to say that I will never forgive him that I never want to see his goddamn face or hear his voice or even his name. I have that right – and you should never have tried to take it from me.”

Natasha breathed slowly, evenly. Her lungs obeyed her perfectly, making no sound as they flooded her muscles with the oxygen she would need for action. _Tombe._ Tony’s eyes were dark and wild, wet with pain that was more than just the grief for his parents or the loss of a team. Natasha knew that pain, knew the soul-rending cut of the treason of one that had been labeled friend. She didn’t dwell on it, didn’t allow herself to console or commiserate or empathize. She wasn’t there for that. It wasn’t her purpose.

Steve’s hand shook a little as he ran it through his hair, messing up the neat strands. “You’re right. And I am sorry. I’m not asking you to forgive me, Tony. I don’t know if you should. If it had been me, in your place...” He sighed, and Natasha watched as he discarded his carefully rehearsed speech. “Few months ago, we were in Indonesia – that tsunami? And Sam almost crashed into a building ‘cause this pretty gal kissed him for savin’ her. Don’t get me wrong, she was a looker – understandable, you know? But all I was thinkin’ ‘bout was how you woulda never let him live it down.” He looked up at the ceiling, his blue eyes a little damp. “It isn’t the toys or the tech or the information, or even, hell, the not being a fugitive that I missed. I screwed up, Tony. And you suffered for it, everyone did. I’m supposed to be the leader, the commander. I supposed to be an example and show everyone how to move forward. But I just wanted my team back.”

Tony leaned to the side, gripping the back of a utilitarian club chair so hard his knuckles turned white. Steve kept going.

“I only ever wanted to make a difference. To do something good in the world. After I crashed, when I woke up, I thought that was all I’d ever have again. And I wanted that to be enough. But it wasn’t. And then you showed up. A real asshole in a flashy suit.” Steve’s lips quirked up and Tony huffed out a sound somewhere between a laugh and indignation. “You saw what really needed to be done. You saw behind the cue cards and the stage marks that SHIELD kept giving me and you made us a team aside from all of that. A team that was above that kind of garbage. It was you who made it so I could do good. So that I had a team again.”

“I told myself, when I found out about your folks, that I was doing it to protect you, and to protect Bucky.” Tony tensed at the name, and Steve saw it, but didn’t pause. “But that wasn’t all. I was afraid that if you knew, it would all be over, and then I’d just be that useless kid again without anyone or anything.”

“And then it was over anyhow.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded in sad agreement with Tony. “Bullets and bombs I got no problem dealing with. People aren’t in my skill set.”

This time Tony did let out a harsh chuckle. “And communication’s not in mine. So says my therapist. And Pepper. Pretty much everyone who has ever met me. So make sure you hear this, because it’ll probably take another world-ending thing to get me to this conversation again, but I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I mean, I screwed up. I’m sorry too.”

They both just stood there, staring at each other for a few minutes. When Natasha was certain there wouldn’t be any bloodshed, she spoke up.

“You want to hug it out? I can give you some privacy.”

“Shut up, Natasha,” Steve muttered, his cheeks flushing but a smile tugging at his mouth. His posture was easier, lighter than it had been.

Tony shoved the pastry tray at her and she took it before he could drop it. “Have a danish or something. Maybe you’ll be less annoying after sugar.” He grabbed his insulated mug from the table and flopped into to same chair that had been holding him up, and Steve slid into one across from him, snagging himself a chocolate filled croissant on his way.

 _Resolution._ Natasha allowed herself a deep breath as she set down the tray and refilled her chai. With one hand she pulled out her phone and sent a text:

_All quiet on the western front._

A response came through while the men behind her ate and drank kale smoothies, respectively.

_FarmerBrown: ? Maybe that book was different on your side of the curtain._

She tried again.

_Detante reached. You asshole._

_FarmerBrown: Nice. Now don’t text again unless we’re at war with the Friendly North._

She understood. Since Canada had offered the fugitive Avengers sanctuary during the negotiations, Clint, Sam, and Wanda were enjoying a vacation from constantly hiding. Tony had, in his usual underhanded and strenuously denied fashion, apologized to the rest of the team by buying – not renting because that wasn’t his style, but buying a six bedroom home with indoor pool, wine cellar, and gated drive was – and adding his own security before making it available to Steve’s group. He had also flown Laura and the kids up. Clint deserved to be a little grouchy about having his family time interrupted. Behind her, Steve had finished his food and so she handed him a bottle of water. Tony was tapping away at his phone and slurping at his nearly empty drink.

“Ross really is a dick,” Steve murmured. Tony laughed, loud and long and accompanied by the rhythmic slap of his phone against his knee.

“He really, really is.”

 

* _Ballon_ : a jump where the ballerina appears to hang effortlessly in the air.

 _En avonte_ : a movement toward the front.

 _Adagio_ : slow, controlled movements done with fluidity and grace.

 _Trombe_ : the action of falling, often leading into a traveling step.

 _Resolution_ : final movement.


	4. Tomato Can Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barnes. There just aren't enough good things I can say about him. And everyone, especially those who have been through the worst, should be able to take enjoyment in the little things. Like teasing Steve Rogers.

**November 21, 2016**

 

Barnes waited until Darcy – she had argued that if they were going to embarrass Steve together then they should be on a first-name basis – gave him the nod before he opened the door to little room where Steve and Natalia were waiting. Stark had left to go over some last-minute details with his lawyers, so he wouldn’t be there. Darcy had insisted on that – and had an intense conversation with the attorneys that was way over his head, and Barnes admitted that he didn’t even try to change her mind. It was Steve who had wanted to clear the air with Stark as soon as possible. Steve who had decided Barnes should do so at the meeting.

Barnes appreciated the logic behind it. It was better not to go into battle with things left unsaid, but he was also relieved. As much as he wanted, needed, to say some things to Stark, he also was dreading it. And it wasn’t as if Steve was a great example for good timing. That punk had never met a fight that could wait or an argument that might be better had elsewhere. It was a damn miracle he had lived long enough to get a body that could cash the checks his stupid mouth was always writing.

“Good morning, Natasha,” Darcy swept in behind him and Barnes watched Steve carefully. His face was a polite mask of greeting, but his fingers were practically digging a hole through the leg of his pants - they were smoothing down the fabric so hard. _Gotcha, punk._ Barnes didn’t like being stuck in a building full of government officials – he hated being scanned at security. He really hated that he was armed only with a few non-metal knives and his prosthetic. But winding up Steve made things more bearable.

“Captain,” Darcy continued. Barnes didn’t actually see the wink, but he knew it was there from the swing of her hips and tiny parting of Steve’s mouth. She pulled a travel mug from her huge bag and filled it with hot water and a tea bag before also extracting a lurid green drink. “Make sure Tony get this, would you? He gets antsy without his overdose of kale.”

“Of course, Da – Ms. Lewis.” Steve cleared his throat and smiled, but it was a tight, almost nauseated thing. Barnes had a brief flash of memory of little Stevie Rogers hiding behind a trash can at school, some girl – he couldn’t remember a name - screaming bloody murder around the corner ‘cause the skinny kid had seen her in her underthings. Took a good day and a half for him to lose the glazed look off his face. _Ah, to be young and in love,_ Barnes thought wickedly. Steve had done a decent job of shrugging off the ribbings from Barton and Wilson since the fire in Los Angles, but that smile told Barnes everything he needed to know. It was a good thing he liked Darcy, because he figured he’d be seeing a lot of her if Steve had his way.

Course, it was his job – his duty – as a friend to make sure Steve didn’t have it too easy.

“You need help with that, doll?” Darcy was loading up a plate with a variety of expensive looking breakfast treats and juggling two disposable cups of fragrant coffee. Steve narrowed his eyes at Barnes behind Darcy’s back. He knew better than anyone when and where Barnes had used that nickname before. Probably better than Barnes himself did. “My hand ain’t so great for it,” he continued, barely keeping his grin smothered, “but I’m sure Steve’ll help you. He’s got a real _delicate_ touch.” If anything, Steve’s glare grew hotter – enough so that Barnes was idly glad that Erksine hadn’t figured out that laser eye thing like in the old superman comics. Still, Sarah Rogers had drilled manners into her son like a Texan looking for oil. And he never could ignore a pretty face.

“Ma’am,” Steve offered, hand out, then immediately winced. Natasha and Wanda had teased him mercilessly about his outdated language. He mostly didn’t use it anymore – which spoke to how unsettled he must be that it slipped out. Barnes smirked at him. Steve gave him the stink eye.

Darcy turned and waved Steve off, sliding her own mug into her bag and creating a dangerously tiered situation with a thick metal serving tray, the two cups of coffee, and the plate of baked goods. “Thanks, but you have more important things to do. Please try to stick to the notes I emailed you, and Natasha or Susan will text me if you need me.”

Barnes tried to think of a subtle reference to Steve’s needs, but he couldn’t find the balance between suggestive and innocent before the man opened his mouth again.

“Susan?” Steve’s forehead was wrinkled in confusion. Barnes wanted to smack the back of his head. _Who in their ever-lovin’ mind brought up another dame while they were talking to one as good-looking as Darcy?_ Steve. That’s who.

“Tony’s legal counsel. Looks sort of like a bloodthirsty burnt sienna grandmother.”

“I thought that was Paula?”

Darcy snorted at Steve’s mistake. “Yeah. Don’t let Tony introduce you to people. He never remembers names unless he wants to. So. Good luck with the dignitaries, and try not to start any more international conflicts than you absolutely have to.” She blew a kiss toward Natasha who nodded in response and then, finally, the suggestive smirk was back on Darcy’s face. Barnes might have a lot to be thankful for, but his life in a new century had lacked variety for entertainment. Darcy Lewis was aiming to remedy that.

“Now, I have to go thank slash bribe some administrative personnel. If you’ll excuse me.”

Barnes tensed as a set of double doors opened wide and the Canadian Prime Minister entered with several other people that Barnes recognized from the preparatory files Darcy had sent out. Steve wasn’t in danger of anything other than irritation and blue balls, not necessarily in that order, so Barnes smiled and faded into the background, taking Darcy with him. He winked at her so she’d know they were the correct distance away to enact their plans. Only Steve, and maybe Natalia, would be able to hear them.

Darcy tucked her arm around Barnes’ metal elbow like they were stepping out together. He managed not to freeze up this time. "Barnes darling, I've had a marvelous time. While we wait for the grand poo-bahs to finish waving their dicks around, you must tell me everything embarrassing about young Steve Rogers."

"Maybe I don't remember," he murmured. His eyes slid between the gorgeous dame and the blush that was crawling up the back of Stevie's neck. Punk was walking away with the Prime Minister, but not far enough yet that his sensitive ears could miss her voice.

"Even better. Tell me a story, gorgeous, and don't skimp on the details."

Barnes couldn’t recall everything about their shared youth, a lot of the details were still blank and things would come to him suddenly when he wasn’t trying to remember anything. But he had his head screwed on well enough to know that Steve Rogers had done plenty that he wouldn’t want spread around town – especially that he wouldn’t want whispered in the ear of a girl he was sweet on. Steve was nervous for the meetings and tied up over the situation with Stark, he deserved a little distraction. And Barnes would readily admit that he mostly just wanted to watch his friend squirm.

_Yeah_ , he thought with a snicker, _you think about what you’ve done, young man._


	5. The 'Ol Rope a Dope

**November 21, 2016**

 

His nerves had subsided to be replaced with the usual combination of frustration and resignation that tended to accompany any meeting regarding policy and politics. But Steve still had hope – something that had been absent for a long time and was rekindled by Darcy Lewis and then Tony Stark. Tony, who sat next to him – slouched in his chair like he owned it – and primarily fiddled with his phone while others talked. Agreement that the Accords needed to be dissolved had quickly been reached, and along with it immediate assurances that Steve and the others would no longer be considered fugitives in the represented countries. Secretary of State Lopez had passed over a preliminary Executive Order and Official Pardon from President Ellis. Steve had skimmed it, leaving the scrutiny for later when the lawyers could advise him. He was surprised to note that Bucky’s name was included.

After the initial goals were established, the meeting devolved into minutia that Steve knew was important but was having trouble focusing on. Aside from his lack of training in government and international relations – and he found himself hoping for more than one reason that Darcy - Ms. Lewis - would explain it all to him later – he was also keyed up with relief that he and Tony had reconciled. That, combined with the assurance, in writing, from the President that his friends would be able to return home made it difficult to care very much about where formal discussion could be held and exact wording of public relations.

Raised voices on the other side of the door broke him out of a pleasant daydream where he and Buck sat down with Nat and Tony to watch a baseball game. His enhanced hearing could make out a few words, and he gathered that someone felt they needed to be included in the meeting and that Trudeau’s staff was trying to prevent it. Steve tapped Tony on the elbow and scooted back his chair, ready to stand and take action if necessary.

When the door did open, it interrupted the official from France mid-monologue. A heavyset older man huffed into the room – followed by an unfortunately familiar face.

“Excuse me, Prime Minister. I apologize but he wouldn’t-”

“That’s all right, Sean. Thank you.” Steve could feel his muscles tightening in anticipation and his eyes narrowed. Trudeau continued in the same pleasant, although still firm, tone, “Unfortunately, General Ross, this is a closed meeting.”

“Not closed to me. You have fugitives wanted by the government of the United States for treason – and I will not allow them to flaunt that authority!”

Steve had to give the Prime Minister credit, he beat even Tony Stark to the punch. “A representative from your government is already present, General.” He gestured to indicate the current Secretary of State. “When I last spoke with President Ellis, I was assured that Secretary Lopez would represent his administration here. Your presence is unnecessary.”

Ross, the smug bastard, just took a seat at the table, at the opposite end from Trudeau. “You are welcome to try and have me removed.”

There was a long pause, long enough that Steve could feel himself gearing up to end the discussion. He had spent the last nine months fighting against his friends, his teammates, his fellow soldiers, his own goddamn country – all because this insufferable, egotistical moron wanted control he didn’t deserve and power he didn’t earn. Steve opened his mouth, but apparently the Prime Minister was faster than him too.

“General-” Steve began with a clenched jaw.

“I believe a short break is in order. Let’s all take ten minutes, collect ourselves, and then we can get back to discussions. Shall we?” Trudeau was young, for a politician, but he had an admirable poker face. Aside from a tick in his jaw there was nothing to indicate he was the least ruffled by a foreign military leader ignoring him in his own government building. Aides filed into the room and a young man gently cleared his throat behind Steve, waiting to show him to – well, Steve didn’t know. Restrooms or a coffee bar. _A punching bag with Ross’s face taped to it would be more relaxing,_ Steve thought. He threw a glance at Tony, brows raised, and it was obvious the billionaire was just as furious. He nodded back and Steve followed him out of the room, intending to sort out a plan of action with him. They couldn’t allow the talks to be derailed – or co-opted – by Ross.

The door to the conference room closed softly, leaving Ross sitting at the table, his aide getting him a coffee. Steve could feel a scowl turning down his mouth. The asshole wouldn’t leave the room – he knew that it would be an international issue to kick him out. Steve was wondering, however, how bad it would be if he was to grab the man by his collar and toss him out a window. Captain America was already considered a traitor, and they were only on the third floor. The man would probably only get broken bones. Steve clenched his fist and turned back. _I’ll talk first,_ he placated the voice of reason in the back of his head. _If things escalate, then they-_

“If you would please follow me, Captain? Mr. Stark?”

Steve shared a look with Tony, surprised by the staffer that was waiting patiently for them. The young woman carried only an oversize phone and a pleasantly bland expression.

“Look, kid-” Tony began, but was interrupted by Natasha sliding smoothly into the conversation from god-knows where.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile that had the girl blushing. “We’d be delighted.” She linked her arm through Steve’s and he crooked his elbow automatically, then frowned at Nat. He hated it when she used his manners against him.

“Nat-” he began, but Tony was talking too.

“I’m just gonna get the suit. Eight, maybe eleven seconds and then I’ll have the room cleared. That smug, self-centered, dick-nosed asshole should meet the business end of a repulsor then-”

Natasha didn’t let him even work up to full diatribe. “Don’t be an idiot, Stark. It’s all under control.”

Steve’s anger began to cool as he glanced down at the top of her red hair. As much as he wanted to put his boot up Ross’ ass, he wasn’t sure Natasha’s methods of resolving tension would be appropriate. It was one thing to deck a General – Steve had punched a Colonel once, it wasn’t _that_ bad – it was an entirely other thing to poison, strangle, or otherwise _disappear_ one.

“Don’t you manage me, Natalie,” Stark said snidely. “I don’t like being managed. Kept the man on hold for three fucking hours and he doesn’t get the message. Friday could have his browser history in under a minute, two tops. Why didn’t I think of that? Release his information and then let the talking heads do their work. Shouldn’t have to deal with this asshole when I’ve already hit my limit for personal growth.” His mutters to himself suddenly gained volume, “Personal growth! I check off three of the five things on my required therapy list for the day and I could check four if Captain Glory and Ms. Pants on Fire would just let me _adequately express my frustrations!_ Hands off, Romanoff!” He snapped out the last sentence and Steve had to wonder how much of that Tony had actually intended to say aloud.

Natasha had neatly steered them both down a short hallway and through a series of small rooms. Ahead of them Trudeau was waiting next to an open door.

“I apologize for the change of venue, gentlemen, but I think this room will be far more conducive to our discussions. Courtney,” he smiled at the young woman that had scampered ahead of them, “Please let security know I’m ready to have this wing locked down. And would you see if you can get fresh coffee and tea sent up before lunch? Thank you.”

Steve blinked and stared into the smaller, less well appointed conference room. All of the delegates were present, being settled in by aides with their portfolios of information and glasses of water. When Ms. Lewis had informed his team where the negotiations would be held, Sam had made more than one joke about how nice Canadians were. Steve had found them nice enough, sure, but he hadn’t realized devious came with it. Trudeau couldn’t have Ross removed from the meeting, so he had the meeting removed from Ross.

“A non-violent and reasonable course of action,” Natasha murmured as she gave them each a none-too-gentle push toward the door. “Isn’t it amazing how smoothly things can go when cooler heads prevail?”

“Humph.” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets, frowning petulantly. “You’re worse than Lewis. You never let me do anything fun.”

Another young staffer was closing the doors as Steve found his seat, and he got one last glimpse of Natasha typing away on her phone before Trudeau resumed the meeting.

“If everyone is ready, perhaps we could move on to the next item on the agenda. Mr. Stark, would you care to outline your ideas for accountability?”


	6. Counterpunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually post so quickly, but I had so many hilarious comments about Ross stewing in his 'Meeting: Party of One' that I had to put this up. Plus, more Bucky and Darcy, which is basically the combination for the most benevolent dictatorship - which as we all know is the ideal form of government. Do you think Tony would hack and copy this security feed? God knows I would.

**November 21, 2016**

 

Darcy breathed a silent sigh of relief. According to her most recent text, Natasha had confirmed that Tony and Captain Rogers had buried the hatchet – _figuratively, thank you_. Barnes had reacted surprisingly well to her suggestion that he follow her around and allow Trudeau’s staff to ogle him. All in the name of fostering better international relations. And three different people had complemented her outfit. Considering the way the day could have gone, Darcy was feeling pretty good about herself.

So, of course that is when the other shoe dropped.

A buzz of whispers ran through the cubicle farm outside the closet of an office where Darcy’s primary Canadian contact/gossip worked and she stuck her head out to see what was going on. A sixties-modern glass wall separated the cube monkeys from the corridor and Darcy got a good look at what had started the commotion. No less than six uniformed American soldiers were stationed in the hallway while an older suited gentlemen did his best to loom over a security staffer. To his credit, the Canadian held his ground and the loose half-circle of men and women behind him maintained tight smiles and straight postures. Where the Americans looked like they were eager to start a fight, the Canadians had a very polite _fuck you, please_ attitude. Unfortunately, Darcy doubted that would be enough to stop the dickwad in the suit.

“Christ on a cracker and Loki on the loose,” Darcy muttered. She turned around to close the office door, only to find Barnes right behind her. She pushed on his chest. He didn’t move. “Back up, buddy. You’re making like a doorstop.”

“Ross.” The growl was low and intense. Darcy’s contact stiffened up, the older man slowly scooting as far away from the door – and Barnes - as he could get. She didn’t blame him. Barnes hadn’t said two words since they had arrived, and a quick glance at his face confirmed that he was looking very _finger-to-the-throat-means-death_ and she did not doubt he knew how Ross felt about non-consensual human experimentation and imprisonment without due process.

“Whoa there tiger,” she murmured. “We need to reconnoiter on this before you open up a can of whoop ass and make this into an international incident with, like, the only country that doesn’t outright hate us.” He didn’t look away from Ross, but he hadn’t moved to break through the glass and Ross’ all-American phalanx of duped stooges either. The little bit of tension that had melted away returned to Darcy two fold. She could feel that her shirt was getting damp under the arms. Thank god she had a jacket in her bag to cover up the inevitable stress-induced pit stains.

“I swear to you, if he so much as breathes like he is going to arrest anyone I will personally go all Pucca on him, but until then we need to figure out what the hell is going on. You feel me, Jimmy?” She held her breath for a moment until he relaxed and took one long step backward – enough for her to close the office door most of the way. Darcy immediately whipped out her phone to text Natasha. “Martin,” she said to her contact, who would probably need a nice fruit basket or something in exchange for using his office to spy on a foreign Secretary of Defense, “you might want to call upstairs and let someone know they have an uninvited guest on the way.” Martin looked relieved to have a task, but Darcy didn’t have time for his feelings. Her phone buzzed again and she glanced down and cursed.

Tony was rapid-fire texting her with commentary on his meeting. She judged him to be about five minutes away from offending someone if he wasn’t distracted. _Ross would be a distraction – no, bad Darcy._ Having Iron Man blast a hole through the Secretary of Dickbags would be a bad idea. Darcy told Tony to pay attention and promised him she would report positively to Pepper about his behavior if he could stay on task. She peeked out of the office to see that Ross had moved on, but two American soldiers had been left stationed awkwardly in the main lobby just a few yards down the corridor.

“Fuck all,” she muttered to herself. _Okay. Okay. You can do this, Lewis. You have the brains, the know how, the support of Tony-fucking-Stark. You have tased bigger threats and kicked the balls in on worse assholes. You can do this._ She straightened her shoulders and dug out her suit jacket. _Thank Dupont for non-wrinkle fabric._ As soon as her moist armpit stink was concealed, she pulled out her tablet and brought up the dossier on Ross. It was a combination of Tony’s questionably obtained files, public news clips, and her own observations. Darcy took another deep breath and put her hand on the doorknob.

Worst came to worst, she had a great combination of visual distraction and liberal violence available to her. Barnes might come in handy too. _Ha_ , she forced out a chuckle. _Handy_. Half-way down the corridor and her phone vibrated with an incoming message.

_MatiHari: Playing field relocated. Rival team cooling their heels. Take 20 before discuss reschedule for rain delay._

Darcy stopped and stared for a moment. She hadn’t had a lot of one-on-one dealings with Natasha, but she often had the suspicion that the woman was not-so-subtly fucking with her. “What the hell?”

“Delegates changed meeting rooms.” Barnes was leaning over her shoulder, his sudden close presence startling an undignified squeak out of her as he read her phone. “Ross has been denied access to the meeting, but he is not yet aware of it. She wants you to stall him as long as possible.”

Darcy turned her neck at an uncomfortable angle to glare at him. “One – don’t read other peoples texts. That is super invasive and just _rude_. B – I’m not a-” she lowered her voice and glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop, “-spy, so stop looking so judgey about my secret decoder ring skills – or whatever. And three –“ she gulped, “ - _fuck me_.”

Darcy breathed out the last two words. Barnes took up most of her vision, but just past the leather sleeve of his jacket she could make out a small group coming through security in the lobby. Three of them moved off out of sight, escorted by a staffer, but the one who remained behind to make a phone call was all-too familiar.

“Already told you I’m not that easy, doll.”

“Shut the fuck up, Captain Kirk. I have bigger problems to deal with. Actually,” Darcy stepped back quickly and gave him a once over. His hair was not as long as it had been in his America’s Most Wanted mugshot, and he had combed it back neatly, but his jaw was already darkening with the suggestion of stubble. Combined with the black motorcycle jacket over dark gray button up and charcoal slacks and he looked like a slightly saner, better smelling version of the world’s deadliest assassin. “Okay. Okay. I can work with this.” She thrust her tablet under her arm and stood on her tiptoes to mess up his hair. He jerked away, but the reaction was delayed enough that she still achieved her goal.

“All righty. I need to go intimidate the crap out of someone. I need you to lurk quietly in the background and be ready to pull out the big guns if things get out of hand.” She fired off a text message to Friday requesting several files be sent to someone in the building who could print them out and bring them to her.

Barnes frowned, not nearly as into her plan as she would have liked. “I was specifically told not to pull out any guns. And not to engage with anyone here.”

“Dude. The big guns are for me. Remember? I’m Pucca in this scenario?” At his blank look she sighed. All her best, most personally reassuring metaphors were lost on her new companions. “Really?” She muttered as she stepped around him, trying to channel her irritation to push down the real possibility that the actual fate of the world – via the future of the Avengers – was resting on her shoulders. “Thor would have got that one. I am the ninja here. You just need to make sure I don’t literally punch anyone in the balls. Figuratively, yes. Literally, no.” Barnes made a sound between a grunt and a snort, but when she looked up at him his expression was impassive.

“Glad we had this chat. Come on.” She marched across the lobby until she was within arms reach of her target. The poser didn’t look up until she had grabbed his elbow.

“Hey-” Before he could finish that thought, Darcy steered him into a shallow alcove with a water fountain and a bench. “-what are you doing? Darcy? How are you...what the hell?”

“Brenden.” She smiled, widely. Then dialed it back a little. There was such a thing as too much teeth and despite the almost overwhelming urge to deck him, she didn’t want to scare Brenden away. “What a surprise to see you here! How are things? Last I heard you were working on the Williams campaign?”

“Uh, yeah. We won?” He cleared his throat to hide his confusion and Darcy almost rolled her eyes. “She offered me a place on her staff, at the White House.” He was trying so hard not to brag it was painful to watch.

“Yeah, awesome for you. In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t the White House. So what are you doing here, Brenden?”

“I’m not at liberty to-”

“Brenden.” Darcy leaned in. He was a good four inches taller than her since she was in flats, but she made up for in in sheer glare. “You’re here. Your boss is here. Your boss’ boss is here. What. The fuck. Is the President Elect trying to stick her nose into?”

“Darcy, you know I can’t-”

Darcy used the hard edge of her phone to poke him in the solar plexus, making him let out an _oompf_. Brenden had been a swimmer in high school and college, but graduate school and working the political circuit and made his thin, wiry frame soft. “You owe me you weaselly little shit.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me?” His eyes narrowed, and she could tell anger was starting to overcome his surprise at seeing her.

“I am reminding you, dingus, that you, and I quote, ‘owe me your life and would give whatever I need, whenever’ end quote. Cough up the info, Brenden.”

“Jesus,” he let out an irritated sigh. “Why the fuck did I ever think this was hot? You’re a goddamn piranha, Darcy.” He ran a hand through his hair and then self-consciously smoothed it back down. “Williams got wind that Trudeau was going to hold a negotiations meeting, to dissolve the Accords. You’ve been following that, right?” His condescension was so thick she could have choked on it. “You know about the Sokovia Accords and-” A sharp release of air behind her cut off Breden and his focus veered over her shoulder. He frowned. Then his eyes widened behind pretentious hipster glasses. “Is that-”

Darcy snapped her fingers. “Over here buddy. I’m on kind of a time crunch. Williams. Accords. Keep going.”

“Um. Yeah. Williams is worried that Ellis might cave and nullify everything before he leaves office. Public support for the Accords is less than twenty-three percent, and polls show that Captain America is getting strong numbers on the west coast and in middle America. Veterans Affairs has seen a tremendous grassroots campaign for him and the W- ah,” his eyes darted away from her and then back again. “So she wanted her Chief of Staff here to keep an eye on things. Williams made pulling out of UN -backed foreign agreements and government oversight of corporate endeavors huge parts of her campaign platform, and Ellis could really take the wind out of her 100-day plan if anything is signed before the inauguration.”

Darcy’s mind was whirling. It had taken her a month of phone calls, emails, mild bribery, and one very tense and very off-book meeting with President Ellis to get where they were. If Williams started throwing her weight around, and stirring up the public even more than the tight and nasty election had done, then everything could be ruined. The Germans had only agreed to join the talks because Ellis had personally contacted their Prime Minister. The French came because the Brits and the Germans would be there, _and god forbid the fucking French ever be left out of anything_. The Chinese had sent a representative – but since they hadn’t signed the Accords to begin with their input was more academic. And had significantly more unspoken but obvious military threat behind it. The Japanese were solidly behind dissolution of the Accords – but having Team Cap save thousands of lives during a tsunami earlier in the year had bought a lot of loyalty. Russia was a wild card – but their relationship with Williams was weird as fuck and her entry into discussions would be unpredictable as far as they were concerned.

“Look, Darcy.” Brenden was starting to straighten up as if he had found his c-c-courage somewhere. “I really don’t have time to catch up-”

“Tell the future Chief of Staff that I’d like a word,” she interrupted him. “I have another meeting I need to get to, but I’ll be free after lunch. I would be happy to discuss the future of the Avengers Initiative and any potential for relationship with the new administration once I’m done. Shall we say – an hour? Hour thirty? I’ll have one of the people here direct your group to a meeting room.” She fished in her bag for her business cards and drew out the little gold case that Tony had given her to keep them neat. Engraved in elegant script on the front was, ‘And I’m all out of gum’. Darcy slid out a thick recycled linen blend card and thrust it into Brenden’s face. He took it reflexively.

“I really don’t...Yinsen Foundation? What is this? Darcy, I know I owe you but this is the President we’re-”

“President- _Elect_ ,” she stressed. “Go talk to your boss. Make this happen, Brenden. Do something to change the world for the better.” She shoved the card case back in her huge purse and double-checked the time on her phone. _Shit._ She really needed to check on Ross. “I have to go. Someone will come find you.”

“Darcy.” He reached out for her arm as she turned away and Barnes was suddenly beside her, not touching either of them, but giving off a lethal vibe that couldn’t be missed. Brenden backed off quickly, hands up. “Just...what is this? What are you doing here?”

“Oh. My. God. You’re a millennial, Brenden. Google that Shit.” She pointed at the card and turned away again, before snapping her fingers and spinning back as she remembered something else. “Oh, and you never saw him.” She jerked her thumb at Barnes. Brenden nodded, slowly, and Darcy resigned herself to taking that for understanding. Brenden was an asshole, not an idiot. She had her tablet out again, files for both Ross and Williams pulled up, and was pushing the elevator button when Barnes finally spoke.

“Friend of yours?”

“ _Eugh_. Ex-boyfriend. He had this thing, in undergrad, for online protests to support the removal of classist- you know what? It’s not important. He really does owe me. Not a chance in hell he would have gotten on with Williams’ campaign if I hadn’t known the arresting officer at the time – guy started out as a deputy in my Dad’s county before he joined the force in Culver. It really _wasn’t_ Brenden’s, but he had enough pot on him for intent to distribute. The dummy. In any case. He turned out to be much more interested in playing the power game and working the political hierarchy - via his hand down the pants of the PR Manager to a Senator from Ohio – than he was in me. While I went to New Mexico and made friends of a more – shall we say – monarchical bent? Kind of changes your perspective on political science when you realize there are intergalactic issues out there. We all learned important lessons about career goals and forgiveness – I didn’t have any of that second one and I had to burn my sheets. Asshole did it in my apartment. But I ended up flirting with your bestie and working in Stark’s tower and Brenden ended up drafting about a million Facebook posts so he can work in a cubicle in Washington. Karma can be a real bitch. I like that about her.”

Darcy shoved her tablet into her purse and quickly sent an update to Natasha before slipping her phone into her jacket pocket. She touched up her lipstick as the elevator signaled their arrival.

“What’s my role here?” He spoke quietly, no doubt in deference to the two American soldiers standing guard outside the conference room where the meeting had originally been scheduled and the two Canadian security forces that were watching them. None had noticed the elevator yet, but they would once Darcy stepped out and into their direct line of sight. Barnes didn’t seem to like talking to strangers. Strangely, his nerves, or quirks, or PTSD trauma, or whatever, helped settle her own tension.

“Right. Eye candy for the office drones. Darcy-restrainer with Brenden. How do you feel about looking bored and yet still ready to commit high treason?”

“Again?”

Darcy snorted at his dry delivery. “Dude. You are awesome. Just, for reals, stay in the lobby area until I finish up. I mean, bust in if shooting starts or something, and please don’t let anyone arrest me. We can go grab lunchafter I verbally stomp General Dick under my delicate little foot.” Saying it almost made her believe she was capable of it. _Darcy Lewis,_ she tried to psych herself up, _I came to kick ass and chew bubblegum._

“I think I might be a little sweet on you, Darcy Lewis.”

She snorted. Unbelievable or not, it was a welcome boost to her confidence. “Get in line, Jim.”

 

 

***

Barnes maintained a blank expression even as Darcy’s meeting dragged out closer to the forty-five minute mark. The soldiers waiting on Ross shifted, and while their poker faces might have fooled a civilian, he could see the tension in them. _Good_ , he thought. _You should be worried_. He had planned three different ways to incapacitated them both and get Darcy to safety within moments of her stepping out of the elevator. Out of sheer boredom he had spent his time waiting devising another twelve – and sixteen lethal plans as well.

The soldiers couldn’t possibly hear more than a hum of voices through the thick doors of the conference room, but Barnes could make out almost everything. And Darcy Lewis was something else.

They had been met by a staffer carrying a stack of folders when they stepped off the elevator, which Darcy took as if she expected them. Then she proceeded to bluff her way past the soldiers using big eyes, bigger breasts, and a legitimate visitor badge. He waited outside, making the soldiers, and the rare Canadian passing through, extremely nervous, and listened to her talk circles of bullshit around the Secretary of Defense. She claimed there were forms and agendas that needed his review before the meeting could resume. Then non-disclosure agreements that needed his signature. Then travel itineraries and security concerns. She even brought up formal titles for addressing the other delegates. Then more document review. More signatures, and even more dates and initials. The entire time she kept up a steady stream of inane chatter that made her sound like a slightly ditzy and out-of-depth secretary. Natalia had wanted the woman to stall; she was certainly good at that.

The shuffling of folders caught his attention and he focused harder on Darcy’s voice.

“ _Well, thank you for your patience, Mr. Secretary. I know this has been trying for you, but I’m sure you’re used to signing papers with no real value or merit.”_

Barnes had to bite back a laugh. Ross made a garbled sound that might have been protest, but Darcy continued.

“ _I really do need to get these filed. And indexed. And cross referenced. And alphabetized. But I’m sure someone will be by to look in on you eventually.”_ The sound of a chair scraping back drowned out what Ross was trying to say. “I do..that is I first read about you when I was a freshman poly-sci major, and I’ve followed your infamous career ever since.” Ross didn’t object, which made Barnes wonder if he didn’t know the meaning of infamous, if he thought Darcy didn’t, or if she was playing up more distracting features.

“ _I just – there is something I’ve always wanted to say to you Secretary. General. Mr. Ross. Thaddeus. Thad. May I call you Thad?”_ She didn’t wait for a reply. _“Thad,_ _I want to let you know, in the deepest, most honest parts of me, deep, deep down inside. You are a huge-”_

If Darcy were the type of person that would try to ingratiate herself to someone – for personal or espionage reasons – or the type of person who was concerned with her own well-being, that statement could have been followed by any number of things.

Force to be reckoned with.

Influence on this country.

Impact to politics.

Barnes was rapidly coming to realize Darcy was most assuredly not that type of person.

“ _-bag of dicks. Okay. So glad I got that off my chest.”_ The doors opened to the angry spluttering of Ross, both soldiers tensed, but it was only gorgeous Darcy with a wide smile and a stack of papers. They underestimated her. “Have a nice day!” She even gave a saucy wink to the two guards and a nod to the Canadian security posted next to the elevator before practically skipping down a hallway.

Barnes quickly followed her into the first ladies room she found, leaving Ross and his increasing volume behind. The only other occupant made a hasty retreat when he entered. _Smart woman._ Once he identified the soles of Darcy’s shoes, surrounded by dropped files, and the sound of retching, he locked the door to the hall and prepared a few damp paper towels for her. When she finally came out, her skin was gray and sweaty and her hair needed to be fixed. He waited while she rinsed out her mouth, rooting around in her bag for a travel toothbrush and going to work with that. When she was done he handed her the towels.

“Feel better?”

“Did I just -” she closed her eyes tightly. “Yep. Yep I did. Wow. Okay. That was way scarier than I thought it would be. And stupid. _Dude_. That was so stupid.”

Barnes made a sound of agreement and remained silent while she fixed her hair and makeup with shaking hands. It had been stupid. And reckless. And fearless and brave and probably one of the funniest and most honest things he had ever heard.

 _Why do I attract all the knuckleheads?_ He sighed in resignation when he couldn’t answer himself. Then smiled. She really was perfect for Steve.


	7. Pound for Pound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be my favorite scene with Clint. The chapter is really about Wanda and chosen family and pulling in sight of the finish line, but this Clint has a special place in my heart.

**November 22, 2016**

 

 

“Why do you look like you just went ten rounds with Holyfield?”

Wanda looked up from the granite island where she was helping Cooper crack eggs. Sam was sitting at the ridiculously huge kitchen table drinking coffee and eyeing Steve, who had just come in from a run. She had sensed the Captain return the night before, but it had been very late and his mind was a jumble of exhaustion and emotion so she had not bothered him. Without dipping past what he projected on the surface, she could tell he was more rested and settled, but still filled with concerns and responsibilities. Even though she had spent a great deal of time in Steve’s head, she still wasn’t certain how he lived with the guilt and duty that he put on himself. Barnes followed behind the Captain; his spirits were considerably higher.

“He shouldn’t,” Barnes snorted. “ _He_ didn’t do the heavy lifting.”

“Shut-” Steve glanced at the kids, one on either side of Wanda, listening intently while they worked on breakfast, “-the door, Bucky. No one asked you.”

“I’m telling anyhow,” Barnes said with a smirk, but he dropped the subject and closed the back door. He hooked his foot around a barstool and winked at Wanda. She rolled her eyes and pushed a bowl of cut fruit and berries toward him. Barnes didn’t seem any worse for having gone to meet with Tony Stark and the politicians. Steve had invited her to come as well, but Wanda had zero desire to rehash the Accords with anyone. She was grateful for the excuse to stay with Sam and watch the kids for Laura and Clint while they had alone time.

“So? How’d it go?” Sam poured a cup of coffee for Steve and waited patiently.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Clint?”

“Wait for me for what?” Clint entered with little Nathaniel on his hip and his hair sticking up in twelve different directions. He wore only low slung pajama pants, and Wanda was reminded harshly that not everyone on their team was young or impervious to serious wounds. Clint’s chest was criss-crossed with a series of scars, very old, as if from a whip. Two white, sharp slashes across his stomach were newer, and a faint pink line curled around his collarbone and down into his armpit. She knew his back was just as bad. A career as long and dangerous as Clint’s – no matter how good he was – inevitably lead to injury. Despite that, he looked like a man well-rested, relaxed, and showered with love. _Yoho dusha zavershena._ It was a good look on him.

“Daddy!” Lila squealed, then contained herself to an awkward side hug with her father. “I’m making bacon.”

“Smells awesome, jellybean.”

“Wanda and me are making pancakes,” Cooper inserted, not to be outdone by his sister. “She said we could have chocolate chips if we wanted.”

“Sounds amazing, double chips for me Coop.” Clint ruffled the boy’s hair and Cooper just grinned, his hands too messy to do anything else.

“Steve was just going to tell us how it went yesterday,” Sam tried to get things back on track. “Coffee?”

“All the coffee,” Clint confirmed. He reached into the refrigerator for a sippy cup. Laura had not yet made an appearance, so Wanda quickly reached out with her mind and found the woman still asleep upstairs. Clint plopped down on the bench next to Sam and diagonal from Steve. “So? I didn’t hear any explosions and you look like you have all your limbs.” He leaned around Steve, although it was completely unnecessary, to dramatically examine Barnes. “All that you left here with, anyway.”

“Dad!” The older children both admonished their father at the same time. Clint grinned unrepentantly.

“It’s okay, that’s how he knows I love him.” A smack to the back of his head made him flinch in surprise. “Ow! What the-” Natasha sauntered into the kitchen, seemingly from nowhere, and greeted the still sleepy toddler with a kiss before coming to hug the other children and steal fruit from Barnes. “Nat!” Clint exclaimed. “What was that for?”

“Setting a poor example,” she said, matter-of-fact.

“And so you hit me? Is that a better example?”

Natasha shrugged. “Instead I could withhold information. I had come prepared to describe the latest installment in our Captain’s epic romance.” Wanda could see the faint pink on the back of Steve’s neck and feel the corresponding fluctuation in his emotions. She shared a grin with Barnes. Whatever had happened, it was sure to be interesting.

“Mr. Rogers has a romance?” Lila’s face scrunched up. Sam, predictably, snorted.

“How’s the neighborhood?” He asked, as he always did. Wanda still wasn’t sure why it was funny.

Clint interjected, “Cut it out, man. We’re trying to teach them respect. Would you rather they called you Mr. Wilson or Egg-”

“I spoke with Tony,” Steve said loudly, derailing both the argument and Natasha’s threat. “We’re...we’re better. And President Ellis is going to sign a pardon for all of us.”

“Way to bury the lead,” Sam muttered.

“The Accords?” Clint reached for the sugar for his coffee. Nathaniel launched his sippy cup, but Wanda caught it before it could smack into the table. The toddler laughed in delight as she levitated it out of reach and set it down gently.

“Voided.” Steve let out a breath, and Wanda felt some of his tension ease. Her own mind grew a little lighter as well. With Tony’s forgiveness, without the Accords, they could return to America without worrying about their freedom. _Maybe even to-_

“It won’t be official, of course, until all the countries that signed meet in December. But the members of the UN Security Council are all on board and will be issuing statements of pardon for us. And the majority of the Accords countries have already withdrawn their support for the agreement. So technically, it is already worthless in those nations. Tony’s lawyers are looking through everything, but we should have preliminary documents sent over here sometime this afternoon. And Tony is working on some other stuff – really, really good stuff...He wants us back. Ms. Lewis, er...there’ll be a video call, maybe before Thanksgiving. And there are some things...we can meet after breakfast and I’ll go over the details with everyone. I’m sure Nat has more to say too, but...”

“It is done.”

The children paused for a moment in their breakfast preparation, and Wanda forced herself to focus on dropping butter on the griddle and checking the batter. _Done. They could go home_. Not _home_ , home. That place, the place of her childhood and her family was gone. But she had begun to make a new home, a new family, when the Accords had ripped it all apart. To hear Steve and Nat agree that it might not be gone, that the people she had begun to trust, to cherish, might... _home_. A warmth stirred in her chest and she felt both nervous and comfortably full.

“So...” Steve started, cleared his throat, had a sip of coffee and then started again. “After breakfast? Let’s meet in the dining room and we can run through everything.”

Barnes snitched a strip of bacon off the first of several heaping plates Lila was carefully transferring to the table. She scolded at him with a smile. Sam topped everyone’s coffee, while Wanda supervised Coop pouring out and flipping pancakes. Nat made up a plate of fruit for her namesake and found a mug for tea. Upstairs, Laura was stirring. It was a good morning. The best morning that Wanda had had in a long, long time. Energy buzzed at her fingertips happily and skimmed across the house, touching on these people who had become her friends and more.

“I didn’t hear any fire trucks yesterday,” Sam said conversationally.

“So you got a number?” Clint added. Steve frowned, shoving his mouth full of bacon and scowling at his friends. The back of his neck had gone from pink to red.

 

 

* _Yoho dusha zavershena: His soul is complete._


	8. Bonus Round

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I received your comments, this had to be done. Thank you especially to Filiafamilias and biblioworm.

**November 22, 2016**

 

“Oh. My. God. Look at his face. Lewis, Lewis, do you see his face? It’s right there, on the front of his head. It looks so _stupid_.”

Darcy rolled her eyes at Tony’s enthusiasm. She had, actually, seen the face. Multiple times. She wouldn’t admit it to Tony, but it was satisfying. In a gut-churning, oh-my-god what-have-I-done kind of way. And really stupid looking.

“Yes, Tony. I see.” How he had gotten security footage for a private meeting room in a foreign parliamentary building, Darcy did not want to know. Well, she kind of did, but plausibility deniability was an important aspect of her new position. And her continued streak of days legal conviction-free.

She slouched down in her seat in the helicopter and focused on the document on her tablet. She had tentatively scheduled a meeting with the Chair of the Judiciary Subcommittee for Tony on the first of the month, but he was still pretty tender over the reconciliation with Steve. Captain America. Rogers. _God, whatever._ Darcy forced herself again to focus on her actual job. It might be better to push back the meetings at least a week. Or maybe until after she got back from Sweden. Because she was definitely going to Sweden. Jane had been hemming and hawwing and outright refusing since she had received the nomination but-

“Look, look! This is my favorite part coming up. Are you watching? Lewis? Friday, pause the playback. Lewis, you have to watch this.”

Darcy glanced over at Tony. He really did look excited. His elbows were resting on his knees and he was leaned so far forward his nose was practically in the holographic projection. He was like a kid, sometimes. A lot of the time. An overindulged, frighteningly brilliant, exorbitantly rich, neglected kid. She considered for a moment that he really could have benefited from the Big Brother program. He probably would have gotten along surprisingly well with the other kids, too.

“Okay, Tony.” She set her tablet down and held out her hand. “Pour me a drink. If we’re going to do this, we do it with style.”

“See how much cooler you are under my influence than the Space Ace and Tag-Along-Blondie? This is cooler, right?” He said it with a level of sarcasm that shamed a Friar’s Club Roast, but Darcy noticed the way his fingers tapped against his knee. His eyes darted to the side.

“Jane and Thor are in a different category, Tony. You, as you are aware, are a class of your own.”

“Damn straight.” A bar popped up between them with a selection of spring water, juices, and heart-healthy snacks. Darcy picked out a carbonated citrus bottle and a pouch of dried banana chips.

“Okay, from the beginning. Hit the highlights. Can we add in commentary - ‘cause I feel like there should be commentary.”

“Psh, duh, Lewis. What do you think this is, a public school classroom? Hit the lights, Friday. Now, Lewis, be honest with me. It’s a fine line, I know, but when I see that slack-jawed anger on Thaddeus Ross – Thad. _Thad._ ” He snorted, then chuckled, then full-out laughed for a few minutes. “I can’t help but wonder. Would Christmas cards be too gauche?”


End file.
